McAllister Justice Series Box Set Volume Two

by Reily Garrett

  The combination of recent experience and years working criminal division jaded Billy’s outlook concerning his partner, who bellied up to the line yet never crossed over. Royden’s smooth exterior proved an excellent façade that had eased their way on more than one occasion. Grudging acceptance had become reluctant respect somewhere along the line.

  “Okay. This is the lab. The doctors are in their offices over there.”

  Royden stepped forward and opened the glass door. “Ladies first.”

  Her smile came with a silent appraisal, a surreptitious look that drifted down to Royden’s bare ring finger.

  “On the left is Dr. Slenktock, and the right is Dr. Farabee. If I have any questions or concerns, is there a number where I can reach you?”

  Without missing a beat, Royden replied. “I’m new to this department so I don’t have business cards yet, but my partner can give you one.” He winked at the receptionist then grinned at Billy.

  Slick prick.

  Two men and one woman occupied various workstations in the cavernous room, either peering through microscopes or observing their monitors. Each looked up to watch them pass, nodding to the receptionist before returning to their work.

  Both Ari and his business partner glanced up from their computers when Billy opened Ari’s door. Royden’s groan ended with a “Tch” rasping the back of his throat.

  Ari’s sneer smoothed to a sly smile with recognition.

  “Hello, detective. I assume you’re here because of last night? I told the officer after looking at the camera feeds that no one got inside the building. Probably kids looking for trouble.”

  Setting the tone for an interview took precise consideration of various elements, the target’s frame of mind, expectations, body language, etc. To ease tension, Billy smoothed his features, willing to accept, and utilize, his target’s air of superiority.

  “Could be. Yet considering the equipment I see here, I’m glad we’re following up. Nothing disturbed?” Billy strode to the side wall, briefly examining the scholarly plaques. “Quite impressive.” The position gave him full visual access to the doctor.

  As if his guest studied a paper written in some obscure language, the doctor reviewed the certificates and their specific significance.

  Benign interrogatives garnered stress-free responses meant to gauge the target’s baseline reactions and presentation. Once established, recognition of how Ari replied to each question, avoidance of eye contact, a gaze that slid away, a weak tightening about the mouth, would dictate how to proceed.

  Prior interaction dictated Royden a better candidate for the interview, but Billy couldn’t relinquish that responsibility after the threat to his family.

  Through the glass partition, he watched Farabee’s puzzled reaction to Royden.

  “Nothing was taken or disturbed that we can determine.” Ari’s heel bounced on the tile floor as his attention focused on a molecular diagram on his computer screen.

  “What exactly do you do here, anyway? Looks like a magnet for corporate sabotage.” Hitting a soft spot drew the doctor’s attention.

  “Dr. Farabee and I have created an innovative prototyping tool to process a greater variety of biomaterials. Our advantage over the competition is that our system can use multiple materials at a time for computer-aided tissue engineering and physical 3D scaffolds. It can exude paste and gel materials, ceramic paste and biogels—at the same time.” Arrogance and condescension permeated the researcher’s body language.

  “You’re manufacturing organs—here?” Billy’s speculation generated a dark electricity rushing through his veins. The arrogant bastard thought to talk over his head yet tipped his hand in the process.

  “No! There are very strict laws concerning organ replication,” Ari replied, losing a little starch in his spine.

  “But it sure would be a medical breakthrough if you could construct organs that withstood the test of time and the rigors of life.” He didn’t want to push the doctor too hard yet appealing to his air of superiority yielded its own benefits.

  As if understanding he’d overstepped particular boundaries, Ari slouched in his wheeled chair and pursed his lips. “That gets into technical areas I’m not prepared to discuss. But rest assured, we’ve stepped up our security and are going to hire night guards.”

  After rattling the man’s arrogant shell, it was time to catch an honest response. Billy redirected the focus of conversation. “You’ve heard of the recent murders?”

  “Sure. What does that have to do with us?” Ari sat back in his chair and crossed his arms over his chest then rubbed his hand over his mouth as if to prevent damning words from slipping past.

  “Certain details of the investigation haven’t been disclosed to the public, so I’d appreciate you not repeating this—to anyone.” A glance through the glass wall at Farabee conveyed his meaning. A small misdirection.

  Ari sucked in a quick breath. “You mean those college girls? The ones with Remie? What could Farabee have to do with them?”

  “Exactly.” Billy watched Ari for any nervous twitch, restless gaze, or repetitive movements. The man was apprehensive but not out of proportion to expectation.

  “Hey, you can’t think my partner would hurt anyone. He’s harmless—a nerd.” Doubt crept into his expression.

  “We’ve already verified his whereabouts for the evenings in question, as a matter of caution.” Billy smiled apologetically.

  “Good. He’s always working. It’s the way people in this field exist, just can’t stop.”

  “Speaking of remote possibilities, how close is your competition to developing the same technology?” Eliciting a rival’s name could introduce a new lead.

  Ari frowned and shook his head. “I’m not entirely sure. Word has it that Biobotics is struggling to perfect the same process we’ve finalized.”

  Frustration twined in Billy’s chest. The suspect hadn’t given much away, secure in his righteousness. “Tell me, do you know a professor by the name of Dr. Ballack?”

  Ari turned back to his computer and closed out his files.

  Bingo!

  “What is her specialty? On the other hand, we talk to many people at social and work-related functions and don’t remember their names.”

  “Biology.” Billy grinned.

  Ari blanched.

  Answering a question with a question flagged the possibility of avoiding a lie. The man was intelligent enough to realize he might not be successful. Concurrently, the switch from past tense to present raised the question of rehearsing the events in his mind. The sudden changes sent up a warning flag.

  Continuing along that vein as if to validate his innocence, Ari’s MLU, or sentence length, steadily increased with the need to describe specifics in his medical research.

  A burning in Billy’s gut urged the question, “Are you or your partner working with nanotechnology?” Farabee had used Billy’s past as dangling bait, a predator taunting one he assumed weaker. Observing his target, he watched Ari visibly relax in his chair.

  Surprise lit the doctor’s face. “That’s a very broad field. If I understand the context of your question, then the answer is no. We’re not trying to alter the tissue we construct. Our goal is to lay the groundwork so that one day we can replicate, exactly, the parent structure. Hence, when your heart gives out, we can manufacture a new one in the lab with several hours’ notice. The same goes for other organs, though some, like the heart, are years away from coming to fruition.” Tension drained from the doctor’s face.

  “One of the details not disclosed is that the victims each had spinal taps performed before their death.”

  Ari shoved back in his chair. “No. That can’t be. No, no, no.”

  “Who can’t be doing what, Dr. Slenktock?” The hair on Billy’s nape stood. This was the reaction that caused the greater concern. If the doctor was alarmed, it signaled bad news for all.

  “The company, Biobotics. They’re working on neural organoids. Lots of scie
ntists, myself included, share the desire and hope for the future, but…”

  “They’re trying to make brains? That’s bullshit.”

  “No, you can research it yourself. There’s a publication, Lancaster and Knoblauch’s cerebral organoids, mini brains, if you will. The long and short of it is this. They’ve embedded aggregates in an ECM, gel material. It improves the polarization of progenitor sheets and supports the growth of neural buds. These in turn develop into various brain regions. It’s not a controlled growth…” Ari jabbed away at his keyboard, and then turned the screen so Billy could see. “Look, see for yourself.”

  Billy studied the picture. A jagged, two-dimensional outline, a flattened circle with various colors representing things beyond his comprehension heralded his next nightmare. “If that’s what they’re showing the world, what are they doing behind the scenes that we don’t know about. I’m surprised they’d publicize it.”

  “I’ve no way of knowing for sure what they’ve accomplished, but public awareness brings grants, both private and government. They’ll publicize the tip of the iceberg, at the very least.”

  “Do you think they’d try to implant them?”

  “No. they can’t be that far along yet. Though I wouldn’t be surprised if they’re working on animals, rodents, dogs, etc.”

  “To have the genetic material, you’d have to what—crack open someone’s skull to get the neural cells?” Presenting an ignorant façade added fuel to the doctor’s dogmatic insistence on getting his point across in layman’s English.

  Ari waved a dismissive hand. “You could use central spinal fluid or even cord blood.”

  “Cord blood?”

  “Yeah, umbilical cord blood. Much easier to obtain.”

  Christ, now we have to broaden the scope of investigation to include maternity suites?”

  “Do you think they’re also bioprinting things like ears, noses, and breasts?”

  The doctor blanched with the last word, his cheeks alternating between tinges of pink and bleaching white. “Could be. You’d have to check their lab.”

  Gotcha. Confirmation of the earlier foible validated his suspicion. Billy had again interspersed key questions amid general conversation to elicit an honest response. Works every time.

  “Word on the street is that Biobotics is trying to hire you.”

  “So? There are other companies cozying up to me, also. I’m perfectly happy here, being my own boss.” Narrowed eyes and a twist of his lips revealed the information wasn’t new, or welcome.

  Further conversation yielded little information but added a new if horrific direction for their investigation. If the doctor had in fact inserted a new breast in the professor, it didn’t make sense to kill her, even less to implicate Remie.

  A slow deep breath steadied Billy’s nerves after stepping into the brisk morning air. He couldn’t cage the tension that tightened his jaw, narrowed his throat, or hissed a low snarl.

  “You look like you’ve run a marathon, partner. Care to share?” Royden pulled the car keys from his jacket and tossed them to his partner. “Your turn to drive.”

  “Ari blinked when I mentioned breast. But lost his shit when the discussion involved neural organoids. How’d Farabee do?”

  “Touchy when the conversation revolved around our pathologist. Otherwise, cool as an alley cat waiting to pounce. He knew we’d verified his alibi. In the same breath, he did his damned best to convince me Ari wasn’t a serial killer or mad scientist. Doesn’t track that Ari would kill the professor after giving her a new breast.”

  “Shit. Nothing tracks. Did you ask Farabee about a penchant for college-age girls?”

  “Yeah, he says he prefers more experienced women. He’s either a sociopath or he’s innocent.”

  “Did he talk about Biobotics?” Billy slid behind the wheel and keyed the ignition.

  “Yeah. Scary bunch of shits. Farabee said they’ve made Ari a number of offers but he refuses to work with them. Says he’s happy with the current setup. I guess the fiber optic brain statues are their versions of a future fantasy.”

  “Either that or a ruse to deflect suspicion. Ari said he has no intention of leaving or re-focusing the direction of his study.”

  “He doesn’t strike me as the type who would mind bending the rules when it suited.”

  “Bet we’ll never find the proof of unorthodox operations. Our window of opportunity has passed and getting an exhumation order for the professor requires evidence. The breast surgery might get him in trouble with the AMA, no doubt it was consensual, hence not illegal.” The job entailed more blind leads and false starts than tolerable. “We can’t tie him to the women’s murders. Let’s go see the whackos at Biobotics.” Billy pulled off the lot, glad to be away from Celtronics.

  “Has Remie finished with the newest victim? The drug addict’s mother?” Royden snagged his cell phone.

  “No. Not yet.”

  “I still have a gut feeling there’s a bone of contention between Ari and Farabee. Maybe it’s just the obsession over Remie.” Royden flicked an auto dial number. “I’m gonna check on Abby, see what she’s doing for lunch.”

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  “What is it with doctors mastering a God complex and erecting grandiose buildings?” Billy whipped into a parking space in front of Biobotics. Two rows of cars with sleek lines designed for spirited performance and agile handling filled the majority of the lot.

  “I don’t know. I kinda like the combination of glass and stone. Palladian windows seem a bit over the top, but it sorta fits.” Royden tilted his head to the side in consideration.

  “Only you would think that way, city boy.” Billy’s cell vibrated. The text delivered more grief. “Shit.”

  “What?”

  “Wendy’s parents have pull with the brass. They’ve caught wind that DNA evidence pointed to a suspect and they’re demanding an arrest—otherwise they’re going to the press.” Sitting back against the seat, Billy wondered how much worse the day could get. Asking that question usually provokes a cosmic response.

  “Hell. Really? Someone wants you bad. They should also know you’ve been cleared from any wrongdoing and the brass is aware of the psycho’s game?”

  “Maybe it’s his intent to muddy the waters.” Billy cut the engine and once again girded his thoughts to mentally spar with a genius. “What’s with the worry lines? We got this.”

  “Got an itch on the back of my neck I just can’t scratch.” Royden rolled his shoulders and readjusted his shoulder rig.

  “Got a directional indicator?” Billy knew better than anyone the cost of ignoring a hunch.

  “Wonder what our little snoop is doing now. I wouldn’t mind having her check on Abby.”

  “Yeah, pink stripe and all, strutting through the courthouse saying ‘Howdy,’ to everyone she passes.” Billy snorted. “She’s probably bungee jumping over the Crooked River Gorge or zip lining at Pumpkin Ridge. I have no idea why any sane person would care to jump off of a bridge, much less pay someone for the experience, but her time is free while Remie’s at work.”

  “Hey, don’t knock bungee jumping until you’ve tried it. We had a blast and got some great pics last month.” Royden chuckled even as his gaze scanned the perimeter.

  “We?”

  “Uh, Abby and me. Look, she may not show it to you, but she has quite an adventurous streak, just ready to bust out. Last week, we—”

  “Stop! Stop right there. I don’t want to know about what you’re exploring with my little sister. All right?”

  “Fine. Let’s go interview this guy then get the hell out of here.” Royden yanked his door open and waited while Billy sent a text.

  “What?” Royden paused in getting out.

  “I’ve got the same grumble in my gut. I’m sending Katt for a look-see.”

  Biobotic’s interior resembled a shrine to money with its marbled gray walls reflecting late morning sun. Sleek and streamlined, the lobby consisted of three large l
eather couches, sculptures he couldn’t define, and a receptionist that probably held a master’s degree in how to not look bored.

  “Good morning, gentlemen. How may I help you?” Neat and prim, the brunette’s hair swept back in a professional French twist that equaled the tailored lines of her skirt suit. Her soft widow’s peak accentuated a heart-shaped face and eyes the color of new buds on trees.

  Royden took point, offering a warm smile and handshake. “Hi, I’m Detective Patterson, and this is Detective McAllister. We’re here to see your boss, Dr. Carrigan.”

  “Do you have an appointment?” She made a show of checking her computer, which probably rocked the latest video game.

  “No, I’m afraid we didn’t have time. It seems the criminals we’re tracking lack the consideration of giving notice. We won’t be but a few minutes.”

  A little smile and charm went a long way, something Billy was reluctant to admit. He offered his own version of warmth and received a frown in return.

  A quick phone call and she led them through wood-paneled doors.

  The advantage of bigger budgets became apparent in seeing the lab. Multiple offices along the wide corridor yielded glimpses of large desks, monitors, and gleaming hardwood floors. At the end of the hall, the receptionist ushered them into a corner office overlooking gently rolling hills.

  A mahogany desk held the footprint equaling two detective’s desks, with the upgrade of an inlaid patterned border. To one side, a thirty-inch monitor continued the upscale executive’s appearance.

  “Good morning, Officers.” The speaker buttoned his fitted jacket in standing, signaling his guests to take a seat. “What can I help you with today?”

  “We’re investigating a recent string of homicides.” Royden leaned over to offer his hand and didn’t flinch when receiving a limp-wristed return.

  “The college girls? I heard about that sordid mess. Poor kids, heaven knows what madness they got caught up in.”

  “What makes you think they were involved in anything?” Billy’s radar twinged at the insinuation.

  “Teenage girls in college? Seriously? Besides, the alternative is too horrific to consider.” His shudder seemed sincere. “There’s enough going on in this world without the addition of psychos running around killing innocent women.”